Last week I drove Breadcrumb's Dad to the airport, where he was picking up his disabled Mum back from a holiday. They went by taxi back to his parents' house, where he was staying the night, me and Breadcrumb were driving back. I wasn't particularly thrilled by the arrangement, as it was happening in the evening, and in the evening I'm a zombie (as most nights someone still thinks being hungry every 1.5-2 hours is ok) but this was the only way to do it, so I agreed, hoping it would be ok as it's only an hour drive.
I tried feeding Breadcrumb at the airport, hoping he'd sleep all the way home, but he wasn't having any of it. So I set off planning to stop shortly for a feed. He started wailing before we even left the airport grounds. Long story short – it took me 3 hours and 6 stops to get home. He wouldn't feed. He wanted to play. He'd start wailing as soon as I'd start driving – and normally driving is what we do when he won't settle! And at one point I was sitting in the car in a side road, in front of someone's house, crying my eyes out, chanting “Lord help me” under my breath, because I was just so, so tired, and I had still so, so far to go. And then he fed. And passed out. And I could go home.
When we got home, I put him to bed fast asleep and started changing into my pj's when the front door opened and my lovely other half appeared to give me a cuddle, because he thought I'd need one, and to make me my cup of tea, like he does every night (which of course made me cry, exhaustion will do that to you).
He went back to stay with his Mum, and I went to bed, thankful to have made it back home safely and wondering how on Earth had I found strength to get through those three hours. And as I was sipping my bedtime tea I opened my Bible App, and this was the verse of the day: “It (love) bears all things, believes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor 13:7 NET). That's how.